OneLittleOldFinn



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  1. Rec *

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    That’s not to say Sam’s so shallow as to need some thanks to do what’s right, because he isn’t, he doesn’t. Sam could get the whole world riding on his case and he’d still choose to do the right thing, angelic as he is. It’s just. He deserves a compliment every now and then, something appreciative, and Bucky’s got words, okay. He’s got words to say, knows how to use them, and a mouth that can speak. Sam deserves a compliment.

    Bucky pays Sam a few compliments that end up becoming a whole thing. It works out for the both of them.

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    08 Oct 2026

  2. Rec *

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    Ghost squints at him, one eye closed. “Rain stopped?”

    “Perceptive as usual, sir.”

    Ghost stands, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his neck. His shirt rides up to expose more than a sliver of skin—hips, and soft belly, and hair trailing into his boxer briefs—and Soap averts his eyes.

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    02 Oct 2026

  3. Rec *

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    That’s when Ghost rolls over, and Soap releases his cock instantly — holds his breath and prays to Christ that he’s just shifting in his sleep.

    “Hurry up, Sergeant,” Ghost says, voice low and much too near. Soap shivers.

    No use pretending he wasn’t getting off when Ghost clearly knows what he was up to.

    “Can’t,” he whispers, “‘m not a lefty.”

    Language:
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    30 Sep 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    meu deus do céu isso foi escrito por um anjo

  4. Rec *

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    Soap knew what Ghost was trying to do, but he was slipping past the point of no return. Burying his face in Ghost’s bulge and licking the sweat off of him sounded like the best God-forsaken idea he’d ever had. He thinks of hot skin and firm flesh and the tender burst of ripe fruit between his teeth, juice dribbling down his chin to pool over his collarbones.

    “Behave,” Ghost growls, and Soap groans, eyes fluttering. His voice softens when he instructs, “Just breathe, Soap. Be patient until we get back and I can take care of you properly, alright?”

     

    The gears in his mind settle with a damning, thunderous grind. The strange urgency from Simon, the newest level of heat to their flirting. The fucking offer that Simon had mentioned. John had shoved his slick-wet pants in Simon’s bag and Simon had found them and understood them as the only reason an omega would do such a thing.

    If only the omega in question weren’t a daft fucking prick who put his things where they weren’t meant to go.

    or —

    step 1: wake up in pre-heat; step 2: accidentally put your slick-soaked briefs into your superior’s bag; step 3: ???; step 4: profit

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    09 Aug 2026

  5. Rec *

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    Finn keeps finding himself in situations where – no, wait, let's start over. Poe keeps ending up shirtless, nearly shirtless, or soaking wet, and somehow Finn is always there when it happens. The universe is either taunting him with what he can't have or rewarding him for good behavior, and Finn can't decide which is more likely. Either way, he's emotionally unprepared for, oh, let's be honest here: Poe's entire existence. It's fine. No big deal. He's working on it.

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    20 Jul 2026